Reading a good long novel is in many ways like having a long and satisfying affair

Death was no less a miracle than birth.

Outside, a gusty October breeze was combing leaves from the trees and sending them across her backyard in colorful skitters.

A kid of your age---any kid---could get hold of matches if she wanted to, burn up the house or whatever. But not many do. Why would they want to?

The brain is a muscle that can move the world.

We all have a tendency to want order in our lives. But order presupposes authority, and authority presupposes, sooner or later, that we'll all need hooves. It's going to happen sooner or later, isn't it? You know it is.

Wanting more is just a recipe for heartache.